Each coming night
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: "I would go into hell with a smile if it meant I was saving Francis from the flames." Set in 1x08, Mary's thoughts while she couldn't sleep.


The coppery smell of blood, the heavy taste of fear, poisoned gold coins and my red dress…those are the things clouding my senses, the images swirling through my mind at the current time. I've been trying to sink into sleep for hours now, I believe. But my body won't give in. It keeps bombarding me with the color of the Count's blood as it spilled on the table, its smell hitting me as strongly as if I was still there, watching him die. Yet the worst I feel is dread at closing my eyes, as if the dead man could still appear next to me and apologize for not being a gentle man as he was about to take my virtue from me. I don't understand how anyone could be that heartless, I don't want to.

I remember at the convent, the mother superior once said intercourse was a wife's duty and her reward for it would be her children. One of the youngest nuns used to say that a woman's virtue was a gift to her husband in their wedding night. The young woman who helped clean the convent for a few coins each week told some of us that it was an act of passion, meant to be shared between two people who truly loved each other, who gave themselves to each other. That it was called "making love". We were all so guarded, we immediately went red and ran away laughing. But after the candles were blown out that night, the older girls whispered about it, hopes for a good husband going from cot to cot. Some of them were scandalized, and others just giggled about it, hoping the nuns wouldn't hear and punish us for such improper conversations…I didn't say much, I just thought it sounded beautiful.

I'd believed in many different things during the years, my mind changing as I grew older and started to imagine my marriage to Francis, or see myself as a mother one day. Or in the privacy of my own mind, how it would be like, to be with him that way. Sinful thoughts I admit, but thoughts I had none the less, a few times. A wife's duty, the means of producing heirs, an act of passion, love...Yet I'd never seen any of those definitions for myself. Ever since I came back to court it's been tried to use as a weapon against me, more than once. The loss of my virtue could've been the source of my ruin. Enough to destroy my chances of marrying Francis, of helping my country. If the guards hadn't stopped Colin, if it hadn't been for Catherine…

Catherine. She saved me. She was the one to send Colin to attack me, on my first night back at the castle. And tonight she saved me. The words settle into my mind and for the first time tonight I think about something other than Count Vincent's hand around my neck and on my body, or my own hand sinking a fork into his neck. Of his blood. Catherine saved me. She saved all of us, Kenna, Aylee and Lola. But the poison hadn't worked yet when she told him to take his hands off me. She protected me tonight. Out of respect because of what I would give up for her son, she told me, and God knows my own life if need be.

But I could see her eyes when I inquired about the story she told us, about the men and their laughs, and her rescue. And I find that part of me hurts for Catherine. I hurt for the girl she once was, who needed protection and had no one to help her. I hurt because if it hadn't been for her, tonight that girl could've been me, and my friends. A shiver runs through my body as I remember Kenna being ripped away from my arms, the count's hands crushing my windpipe, or pushing me onto the table and holding me down. I remember how the fear choked me, the knowledge that we all would be hurt in the worst way possible and I was not strong enough to stop it.

Catherine stopped him, and for that I am thankful. It gave me the time to reach for a weapon and stop him once and for all myself. I never would've thought myself capable of that, of taking someone's life and yet...I did it. And now it's stronger than guilt, how glad I am he is dead. But then, afterwards…I couldn't even think straight, my breathing was ragged and my heart felt as if it would burst as I tried to make sense of what just happened. I was in shock, all I could think about was the blood and how it was so bright red, how it gurgled out of his mouth as he gave his last breath. Of his arm and how it was severed in one clean slice of Francis' blade.

_Francis. _The rush of relief that runs through my body when I think of him is almost dizzying. I can still feel his arms around me, the warmth of his embrace as he told me that he was here and it was all right. He was the only thing holding me up those seconds, I clung to him like a lifeline and I could've cried from relief. He whispered that it was all right, and right that second it was. There were bloody corpses on the floor and I'd just killed a man but I believed him in that moment. I believed him because nothing could be wrong when his arms were around me and I could finally start to breathe easy, to let go of the stoic determination that had kept me together through dinner and through the ordeal of Catherine's final offer. I could calm down knowing I was safe and he was safe and_ here,_ and my friends were going to be fine; like many others this nightmare would soon be forgotten.

_Francis. _The painful reality hits me that I could've lost him tonight too. Had Clarissa not helped me find a way out, had Catherine not come up with a plan, had he not accepted…so many things could've gone wrong. The Count was going to kill him. He knew it, and yet he offered himself up to save me. I would've gladly gone with that horrid man, I know I would have. Given the choice I would have left with Count Vincent, swallowed the tears and bile and let him do as he pleased with me, I would've been his wife and bear it for the rest of my days if that meant that Francis would live. Because I can't fathom a world in which he doesn't exist. If he were lost to me I would die too. But if I knew he was alive and well somewhere; that would make the rest of my days, no matter how miserable, brighter. What I told Catherine was nothing but the truth. I would go into hell with a smile if it meant I was saving Francis from the flames.

Because I love him. It hits my like a blow to the chest and as I finally allow myself to think those words, warmth spreads through my body, driving away the fear and restlessness of the last hours. I love him, and it hurts, my chest feels coiled tight at the thought that I could've lost him in the past night. That he would've been the weapon of his own demise just for coming back. He _shouldn't _have come back. He should have been outside with the servants and his brothers. What if the poison hadn't worked?

But Francis…he didn't even know the gold was poisoned. He had no idea of Catherine's plan, none of us did. And yet he went back into the castle. Even after I tried to make him promise me that he wouldn't. He went back in knowing he might not have come out again. And because of me? His mother? Did he think he stood a chance against a dozen men? It's madness! It's as mad as the feeling that I will burst if I don't see him right this moment, I need to know why, I need to see him and know what possessed him to do something so irrational. The thought of him makes my heart beat faster and it's what wakes my tired body from the stupor it is in. I realize…I haven't moved in hours. My eyes have focused on a single spot in my walls as I let my mind gnaw at the curse that was the passing night. I hadn't noticed it, but its early morning now, and the first rays of sunlight are slipping in through my window.

I couldn't find any rest. The heaviness of my body is a testament to that, yet I feel my mind more awake than ever. Thoughts are running through me like lightning; I could've lost him, I need him, I love this boy, this brave man, this future king that risked his life for those he cares about, that offered himself up to save us…. and he could've died last night. That's what finally makes me rise from my unwrinkled sheets, and pushes me out of my rooms not minding my state of undress. I just need to see Francis, _now , _and understand _why would he do something so stupid_.

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><p><strong>AN: This is my first time writing in first person so excuse me for any mistakes. Thanks for reading. :)**


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